Something Borrowed (10 page)

late that night."

"Yeah. We hung out for a while," Marcus says, without looking at

me. This is a good sign. He is covering for his friend but has

trouble lying. He takes his change from the bartender, leaves two

bills and some coins on the bar, and hands me my drink. "Here

you go."

"Thanks." I smile, stir, and sip from the skinny straw.

An emaciated Asian girl wearing leather pants and too much lip

liner taps Marcus on the arm and tells him that our table is ready.

We carry our drinks, following her to the restaurant area beyond

the bar. As we sit, she hands us two oversized menus and a

separate wine list.

"Your server will be with you shortly," she says, before flipping her

long, black hair and waltzing off.

Marcus glances at the wine list and asks if I want to order a bottle.

"Sure," I say.

"Red or white?"

"Either."

"Do you think you're going to have fish?" He looks at the menu.

"Maybe. But I don't mind red with fish."

"I'm not very good at picking wines," he says, cracking his

knuckles below the table. "You wanna have a look?"

"That's okay. You can pick. Whatever is fine."

"All right then. I'll wing it," he says, flashing me his "I never

skipped a night wearing my retainer" smile.

We study our menus, discussing what looks good.

Marcus slides

his chair closer to the table, and I feel his knee against mine.

"I almost didn't ask you out, since we're in the same summer

house and all," Marcus says, his eyes still scanning the menu.

"Dex told me that's one of the cardinal rules here. Don't get

involved with someone in your house. At least not until August."

He laughs as I store away this fact for later analysis: Dex

discouraged our date.

"But then I thought, you know, what the hell I dig her, I'm going

to call her. I mean, I've been thinking about asking you out since

Dex first introduced us. Right when I moved here. But I was

seeing this girl from San Francisco for a minute in there and

thought I should wrap things up before I called you.

You know,

just to make it all neat and kosher. So I finally ended that deal

And here we are." He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand

as if relieved to make this confession.

"I think you made the right decision." "To wait?"

"No. To call." I give him my most alluring smile, fleetingly

reminding myself of Darcy. She doesn't have the market cornered

on female attractiveness, I think. I don't always have to be the

serious, dowdy one.

Our waitress interrupts the moment. "Hello. How are you this

evening?"

"Fine," Marcus says cheerfully, and then lowers his voice. "For a

first date."

I laugh, but our waitress musters only a stiff, tight-lipped smile.

"Can I tell you about the specials?"

"Go for it," Marcus says.

She stares into the space just above our heads, rattling off the list

of specials, calling everything "nice" "a nice sea bass,"

"a nice

risotto," and so on. I nod and only half listen while I think about

Dex telling Marcus not to ask me out, wondering what that means.

"So would you like to start with something to drink?"

"Yeah Think we're going with a bottle of red. What do you

recommend?" He squints at the menu.

"The Marjorie pinot noir is superb." She points down at the wine

list.

"Fine. That one then. Perfect."

She flashes another prim smile my way. "And are you ready to

order?"

"Yes, I think we are," I say, and then order the garden salad and

tuna.

"And how would you like that done?"

"Medium," I say.

Marcus orders the pea soup and the lamb.

"Excellent choices," our waitress says, with an affected tilt of the

head. She gathers our menus and turns on her heels.

"Man," Marcus says.

"What?"

"That chick has zero personality."

I laugh.

He smiles. "Where were we? Oh yeah, the Hamptons."

"Right."

"So Dex says it's never a good idea to go out with someone in your

own house. And I'm like, 'Dude, I'm not playin' by your dumb East

Coast rules.' If we end up hating each other, we hate each other."

"I don't think we're going to hate each other," I say.

Our waitress returns with the wine, uncorks the bottle, and pours

some into his glass. Marcus takes a healthy sip and reports that

it's great, skipping the usual pretentious ceremony. You can tell a

lot about a guy by watching him take that first sip of wine. It's not

a good sign when he does the whole swirling thing, burying his

nose into the glass, taking a slow, thoughtful sip, pausing with a

furrowed brow followed by a slight nod so as not to appear too

enthusiastic, as if to say, this passes, but I have had plenty better.

If he is truly a wine connoisseur, that's one thing. But it is usually

just a bunch of show, painful to observe.

As our waitress pours my wine, I ask Marcus if he knows about

the bet.

He shakes his head. "What bet?"

I wait until we are alone again it's bad enough that our waitress

knows this is a first date. "Dex and Darcy had a bet about whether

I'd say yes when you asked me out."

"Get outta here." He drops his jaw for effect. "Who thought you'd

go and who thought you'd diss me?"

"Oh. I forget." I pretend to be confused. "That's not the point. The

point is "

"That they are so up and in our business!" He shakes his head.

"Bastards."

"I know."

He lifts his glass. "To eluding Dex and Darcy. No sharing details of

tonight with those nosy bastards."

I laugh. "No matter how great or how bad our date is!"

Our glasses touch and we sip in unison.

"This date is not going to be bad. Trust me on that."

I smile. "I trust you."

/ do trust him, I think. There is something disarming about his

sense of humor, and easy, Midwestern style. And he's not engaged

to Darcy. A nice bonus.

Then, as if on cue, Marcus asks me how long I've known Darcy.

"Twenty-some years. First time I saw her she was all dressed up in

this fancy little sundress, and I was wearing these dumb Winniethe-Pooh shorts from Sears. I thought, now there's a girl with

style."

Marcus laughs. "I bet you looked cute in your Pooh shorts."

"Not quite"

"And then you were the one who introduced Darcy and Dex, right?

He said you were good friends in law school?"

Right. My good friend Dex. The last person I slept with.

"Uh-huh. I met him first semester of law school. I knew right away

that he and Darcy would make a good match," I say. A bit of an

exaggeration, but I want to set the record straight that I never

considered Dex for myself. Which I didn't. And still don't.

"They even look alike No mystery as to how their kids will turn

out."

"Yes. They will be beautiful." I feel an inexplicable knot in my

chest, picturing Dex and Darcy cradling their newborn.

For some

reason, I had never thought beyond the wedding in September.

"What?" Marcus asks, obviously catching my expression. Which

doesn't mean that he is perceptive, necessarily; my face is just less

than inscrutable. It is a curse.

"Nothing," I say. Then I smile and sit up a bit straighter. It is time

for a transition. "Enough about Dex and Darcy."

"Yeah," he says. "I hear you."

We start the typical first-date conversation, discussing our jobs,

our families and general backgrounds. We cover his Internet

start-up that went under and his move to New York.

Our food

arrives. We eat and talk and order another bottle of wine. There is

more laughter than silence. I am even comfortable enough to take

a bite of his lamb when he offers it to me.

After dinner, Marcus pays the bill. It is always an awkward

moment for me, although offering to pay (whether sincerely or

with the fake reach for the wallet) is so much more awkward. I

thank him, and we make our way to the door, where we decide to

get another drink.

"You pick a place," Marcus says

I choose a new bar that just opened near my apartment.

We get in

a cab, talking the whole way to the Upper East Side.

Then we sit at

the bar, talking more.

I ask him to tell me about his hometown in Montana.

He pauses

for a beat and then says he has a good story for me.

"Only about ten percent of my senior class went to college," he

starts. "Most students don't even bother with SATs at my high

school. But I took the thing, did fine on it, applied to Georgetown,

and got in. Of course, I didn't mention it to anyone at school just

went about my business, hanging with my boys and whatnot.

Then the faculty catches wind of the Georgetown thing and one

day my math teacher, Mr. Gilhooly, takes it upon himself to

announce my good news to the class."

He shakes his head as if the memory is painful. "So everyone was

like, 'So what? Big fucking deal.'" Marcus imitates his bored

classmates by folding his arms across his chest and then patting

his mouth with an open hand. "And I guess their reaction pissed

Mr. Gilhooly off. He wanted them to truly grasp the depth of their

inadequacies and future doom. So he proceeded to draw this big

graph on the board showing my earning potential with a college

degree versus their earning potential bussing tables at Shoney's.

And how the gap would get worse and worse with time."

"No way!"

"Yeah. So they're all sitting there like, 'Fuck Marcus,'

right? Like I

think I'm hot shit 'cause I'm going to make six figures someday. I

wanted to kill that dude." Marcus throws up his hands.

"Thanks

for nothing, Mr. Gilhooly. Way to win me some friends."

I laugh.

"So what the fuck am I supposed to do now? I gotta fight the

image of dork gunner boy, right? So I go out of my way to show

everybody I don't give a shit about academics. Started smokin'

weed every day, and never stopped the practice in college. Hence,

well, you know, my finishing next to last at Georgetown. I'm sure

you've heard about the remote?" he asks, peeling the label off his

Heineken.

I smile and tap his hand. "Yeah. I know the story.

Except the

version I heard was that you were dead last."

"Aww, man!" Marcus shakes his head. "Dex never gets that shit

right. My one-point-six-seven beat someone out! Next to last,

dude! Next to last!"

After two drinks, I glance at my watch and say it's getting late.

"Okay. I'll walk you home?"

"Sure."

We stroll over to Third Avenue and stop in front of my apartment.

"Well, good night, Marcus. Thank you so much for dinner. I had a

really nice time," I say, meaning it.

"Yeah. So did I. It was good." He licks his lips quickly.

I know

what is coming. "And I'm glad we're in the same house this

summer."

"I am too."

Then he asks if he can kiss me. It is a question I don't usually like.

Just do it, I always think. But for some reason it doesn't bother me

coming from Marcus.

I nod and he leans over and gives me a medium-long kiss.

We separate. My heart isn't palpitating, but I am content.

"You think Darcy and Dex bet on that?" he asks.

I laugh because I had been wondering the same thing.

"How did it go?" Darcy yells into the phone the next morning.

I am just out of the shower, dripping wet. "Where are you?"

"In the car with Dex. We're on our way back to the city," she says.

"We went antiquing. Remember?"

"Yes," I say. "I remember."

"How did it go?" she asks again, smacking her gum.

She can't even

wait until she gets home to get the scoop on my date.

I don't answer.

"Well?"

"We have a bad connection. Your cell is breaking up," I say. "I

can't hear you."

"Nice try. Give me the goods."

"What goods?"

"Rachel! Don't play dumb with me. Tell me about your date!

We're dying to know."

I hear Dex echo her in the background. "Just dying!"

"It was a lovely evening," I say, trying to wrap a towel around my

head without dropping the phone.

She squeals. "Yes! I knew it. So details! Details!"

I tell her that we went to Gotham Bar and Grill, I ordered the

tuna, he had lamb.

"Rachel! Get to the good stuff! Did you hook up?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"I have my reasons."

"That means you did," she says. "Otherwise you'd just say no."

"Think what you want."

"C'mon, Rachel!"

I tell her no way, I am not going to be her car-ride entertainment.

She reports my words to Dex and I hear him say,

"Bruce is our

car-ride entertainment. Tell her that."

Tunnel of Love is playing in the background.

"Tell Dexter that's Bruce's worst album."

"They're all bad albums. Springsteen sucks," Darcy says.

"Did she just say this album is bad?" I hear Dex ask Darcy.

Darcy says yeah and a few seconds later "Thunder Road" is

blaring. Darcy shouts at him to turn it down. I smile.