Kristen rolled her eyes and looked impatient as she shifted in her seat. “His mother? Is this some sort of psychoanalysis? Because I don’t need some two-bitFast and Furiousrip-off for that. I have a therapist. I’m sure she’d be ashamed of him, though.”
“Because he’s gay?” Cal asked.
She smacked her hand flat on the table. It made a louder sound than Cal expected, and the waitress jumped and frowned in their direction as she weighed whether to intervene or make herself scarce.
“Because hehurtme,” Kristen snapped. She flinched back from her own words and pulled back onto her side of the table. Pain lingered on her face for a second, but she tossed her head, took a deep breath,and glared at him as though she dared him to notice. “I’ll forgive him. Once you’re gone.”
Cal tucked the envelope into his jacket and glanced at his watch to check the date. “Two weeks, then,” he said. “That’s when my contract is up. You should order a cake.”
She looked annoyed. “Do you think this is funny?” Kristen asked. “This is my life. Three months ago we were going to be married, we weregoing to be happy. Then I went to see my father, came back, and I can have the apartment. Like I was coming out ahead now?”
“Lady,” Cal said. “Is he really worth it?”
The question seemed to stump Kristen for a second. She took one last sip of tea, stood up, smoothed her dress down, and looked at him seriously.
“You’ve known him a few weeks,” she said. “You’ve driven him around. You’ve… I guess…caught his eye, and you think you can say what he’s worth? He’s my future. He’s all the plans we made. He’s every time I swallowedthissort of thing. If he weren’t worth it, that would all be wasted, and I don’t waste my time. Goodbye, Mr. Tate. If you’re smart, this is the last time we’ll have to see each other.”
Cal leaned back in his chair, the narrow back sharp where it dug in under hisshoulder blades. “And if I’m not?”
Kristen slowly picked up her bag and hung it over her shoulder. She stroked the strap with absent fingers.
“Then I guess he’ll get to break your heart as well,” she said. Her mouth twitched in a tired smile. “It’s not like he told me about you. He didn’t mention you at all.”
Cal could have said the same, but he didn’t. After a moment Kristen shrugged and left.Cal didn’t watch her walk out. He stared into his plate until he heard the door rattle and chime, and then he looked out the window. Kristen crossed the road, precarious in narrow heels on the deeply rutted tarmac, and crossed down to put something in the drunk’s cup. The man emerged from his nylon cocoon to splutter and grip her hand with fervent, surprised gratitude.
Kristen looked embarrassedas she disentangled herself and stood up. The homeless man grabbed whatever was in his cup and stuffed it into his pockets. Cal resented the ability to be kind. It would be easier if she were a bitch.
He left one of Kristen’s fifties on the table to pay for breakfast and make the waitress feel like the morning was worthwhile. As he walked down the street, he wished that what Kristen said wasas easy to leave behind as her money.
He reached the outside of the hotel, the muscles in his thighs tight as he followed the curve of the drive up from the road, where he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed.
It rang through to the answering machine. The “after the tone” message gave Cal time to second-guess himself as he nodded to the doorman and ducked into the hotel. The tone finallywent, and Cal supposed he had to say something.
“Hey, Doc,” he said. “Cal Tate here. You going to ask me on a second date or not?”
He hung up. Doc called back before he reached the suite. At some point, Cal supposed, he was going to have to learn his name.
