The Overlap (7 page)

And so I did my best throughout that Saturday to forget about my nervousness and disquieting emotions. I went down to my gym and did two circuits through the machines. I thought about going over to Rodeo Drive to see if I could find something new to wear tonight, but instead decided while I was still a little bit sweaty to go for a quick two-mile run. I finished my run right around 3:00, the same time that I came so close to texting Zack that I had changed my mind about tonight; my mind had apparently been whispering to me the whole time I was running that this date wasn’t a good idea.

After I talked myself into not canceling, I decided to do a little bit of work to get ahead of what was waiting for us on Monday morning... plus to try to force my thoughts away from Zack and dinner at
Vivant
for at least a little while. I was almost certain another wave of indecision about tonight was just about to wash over me; but whereas canceling on Zack at 10:00 in the morning or even 3:00 in the afternoon wasn’t necessarily a deal-breaker for something happening later on with us, doing so at 5:00 might well be.

I was also getting angry with Kensington for still not being available to talk this whole thing through. I had texted her a couple of times earlier in the day and called her twice as well, but no return texts or calls. Finally around 4:30 my phone dinged and I picked it up, and seeing on the alert screen that Kensie had at last texted me back, I thumbed to the messages to read:

Call u in 5 sorry

Realizing that I needed to start getting ready soon I texted her back:

Ok but only have couple min getting ready soon

Sure enough, five minutes later my phone rang and I quickly answered. Kensie started by apologizing profusely for not only not getting back to me last night but for going dark all day today. My irritation vanished when she said that the reason had to do with her younger brother, the one who was a sophomore at UCLA and had been having trouble with an oxy addiction for the past three years.

“Mom called me late yesterday afternoon to say that they went to Jeff’s apartment and made him take a drug test and he showed up positive,” she said somberly. “She was crying and wanted me to go talk to him and try to convince him to go back into rehab, that since the fall quarter hadn’t started yet he could withdraw before classes began and then pick up again in the winter quarter after Christmas. I went there last night and he wasn’t there so I went back this morning and have been there with Mom all day, we just left.”

Kensington continued for another couple minutes with an abridged update of her brother’s situation. The story was one I already knew from what she had told me when she, I, and Courtney had all met and were getting to know all about one another and our families. Fortunately in my family neither Lauren nor myself had ever had any problems with drugs – just a little bit of experimenting with weed for both of us in high school and college, but neither of us was really into using it other than at the occasional party – and of my friends in high school and college, I honestly didn’t know of anybody who had had a problem with oxy or meth or anything like that. But from what Kensington told Courtney and me one night, it sounded like her parents – and Kensie as well – had their hands full with Jeff, dating back to his senior year in high school.

“Anyway,” Kensington changed the subject, “we can talk about Jeff later, I know you have big plans for this evening, right?” Her voice seemed to brighten a bit as she spoke those words, almost as if she were vicariously getting ready for a first date herself, the same that I was.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said hesitatingly. “I almost canceled twice today so far...” I was just about to add “...and I wish you had been around to talk to” but I caught myself, realizing that Kensie had far more serious matters at hand than my yes-or-no decision on whether or not I should proceed with this cheating-on-Dustin dinner date.

“But you’re still going, right?” Kensie interjected, helping to keep me from uttering something selfish like what I had just been thinking about saying before catching myself.

“Uh-huh,” I could feel myself smile as I answered. The reality of my date that would begin in barely more than two hours was enveloping me in delicious anticipation. I proceeded with a highly abridged version of yesterday evening’s preparations after work. I thought about bringing Kensie in on the wax-or-not quandary but since the decision had been made (still no wax) I didn’t see the need to raise that topic... though of course if I had done so the
real
subject would have been whether or not I should sleep with Zack tonight if things headed in that direction. You know, if we really hit it off and there was all this fantastic chemistry between us, and all of that. But that would have been a topic for a long lunch earlier today, a lunch that we of course didn’t have, and I didn’t want to bring up that subject now with only a few more minutes on the phone; definitely not enough time to fully explore it with my friend.

“If you want, call me afterwards to let me know how it went,” Kensie said. “I might go out but I’m not sure. I’m just exhausted from last night and today, dealing with Jeff, and right now all I want to do is lie down and take a short nap, so I’ll decide later.”

We left it where I would call Kensie tonight after the date had concluded – that is,
if
the date actually concluded tonight, right? – or if not, then we absolutely, positively would get together for brunch tomorrow to talk.

I told Kensington to hang in there for her brother’s sake and as we ended the call I snuck a peek at the cable box’s digital time, which now read 4:55.

It was time.

*     *     *

I was extra-careful when shaving my legs in the shower not to nick myself, and the whole time I was very deliberately gliding the razor along either leg my mind insisted on making the comparison between the pace of my actions in this shower versus the “typical” shower in the recent past, whether getting ready for work or to go out with Dustin. Of course I didn’t regularly whirl my razor carelessly down my legs, or under my arms, at lightning-fast speed, leaving a trail of bloody nicks in its wake. But I could tell that I was being extra-careful right here, right now, as I was undertaking this time-honored getting-ready-for-a-first-date ritual. On the one hand, here was yet another sign of the exquisite anticipation I was feeling as dinner with Zack drew closer by the minute. But on the other hand, here was one more crystal clear distinction between my day-to-day life with Dustin versus what I was about to embark on.

Twenty minutes passed; an extra-long shower for me, but that’s partly because I was spending extra time very slowly shampooing and conditioning my hair while my mind was insisting on showing me “sneak previews” of tonight’s date. There we were at
Vivant
, Zack seated across from me as he had been in yesterday morning’s dream (fortunately no more Zack-and-Dustin-together dreams last night!), and I was asking him where he was from; telling him about growing up in Phoenix; talking about what the training program in Miami last year had been like (but of course leaving Josh and Dustin out of the tale...); a dozen more conversations playing out in my head, some lengthy and others fleeting.

Finally I figured enough time had passed – plus the water was beginning to cool off a bit, I guess I had used up a fair amount of the apartment’s hot water – and I exited the shower stall, wrapped a towel around my body and another around my hair, and began the next part of the ritual. Over the next hour I blow-dried my hair; used my curling iron to get it looking just right; and then started carefully putting on my makeup. By 6:15 I was all set and went into the small walk-in closet in the bedroom to retrieve what I had already selected for my wardrobe tonight: a white, loosely knitted top with long sleeves and a bandeau underneath, along with the most expensive pair of jeans that I owned. I had decided to wear my strappy silver Steve Madden heels... the same heels I had worn that first group dinner night in Miami when I had hooked up with Josh Chamberlain, but so what? And I had already picked out my jewelry for the night: a Kate Spade statement necklace and coordinating studs, so that part was easy.

Fifteen minutes later, after resisting the urge – twice – to switch to a totally different top and jeans combination, I sat back down to put on some finishing touches of makeup and another five minutes later I was finally all set. However, now I had a problem: it was now 6:40 and I was a mile away from
Vivant
... a good 20-minute walk if I weren’t wearing heels. So to make it there by 7:00 I would have to walk as quickly as I could in heels that definitely weren’t meant for walking that way, and I would almost certainly get sweaty trying to make it there on time.

I grabbed my keys, stopped at the hallway mirror to take one last checking-myself-out look, and hurried down the hall to the elevator. When I got to the lobby and headed outside the fates were shining on me. A cab was sitting right there with two of the older people who lived in my building exiting, the man just then reaching in through the open passenger side window to hand the cab driver the fare.

“Wait!” I hollered, rushing over to the cab before someone else on the street could get there ahead of me.

“Sorry, lady, got a pickup over on Rodeo,” came back the congenial but firm rebuttal of the cab driver as I was sliding past the older woman through the still-open back right side door.

“Oh please!” I begged. “I’m headed right in that direction and I’m going to be late for a first date with this guy...” I just about told this cab driver my whole life story in like fifteen seconds, and when I finally took a breath the cabbie shrugged and said,

“Okay, okay, get in.”

Traffic through this part of L.A. was already pretty heavy as the going-out crowd began... well, going out on this beautiful Saturday evening. I was beginning to wonder if I might have actually gotten there faster – heels and sweatiness notwithstanding – if I had walked, but with about five minutes to spare the cab pulled up in front of
Vivant
. I handed the cab driver a twenty for an $11 fare and thanked him again for not being a total dick (well, I didn’t quite use those words!) by refusing my fare back at my apartment. The guy seemed grateful for the extra-generous tip; he looked to be about sixty and from his accent while he talked almost non-stop during the ride there, he sounded like he was originally from New York or somewhere back east. From a couple of the things he said about his family it sounded like he had led a tough life, so I figured an extra $5 or so on top of a normal tip would be welcome, which it certainly seemed to be.

I smiled at the restaurant’s valet who shuffled over from the car stand to open the restaurant door for me and I was only inside
Vivant
for about two seconds when a Canali-clad guy of about thirty with spiky moussed hair walked from behind the
maître d’
stand, straight up to me and said:

“Would you be Miss Barnes?”

I immediately thought that Zack had canceled on me and had called the restaurant to have them let me know, but even as that thought was coming to my head I remembered that we had exchanged cell phone contact info Thursday night at
Cerise
. Maybe he had accidentally erased mine?

“I am,” I finally was able to say, preparing myself for the worst.

The man nodded.

“Please follow me and I will take you to Mister Buchanan’s table,” he said and I could feel the surge of relief wash over me; that same feeling I used to get in college when I would go online to check out a score on a test or assignment that I was all but certain I had bombed but surprise of surprises, had actually gotten an A on: Glory, Hallelujah! That was
exactly
how I felt... for about three seconds until a wave of tremendous anxiety hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. Here I was, only seconds away from officially starting my first date with a really attractive new guy I had met only two days earlier but who had consumed my thoughts (and fantasies) ever since.

And here I was, only seconds away from officially cheating on my boyfriend Dustin for the first time.

I forced away both sides of that anxiety as I followed the guy into the dining room and across the center, towards a table near the back... where I could see Zack seated, eyeing me as I walked towards him. Once I got within a few steps of the table, Zack stood – what a gentleman, I thought to myself! – and I half-expected him to give me a kiss in greeting. But instead he nodded, smiled warmly at me, and waited – without any physical contact whatsoever, though – for the
maître d’
to pull out a chair for me and for me to be seated.

“Hello there, Lindsey,” were the first words from Zack’s mouth. He was wearing an untucked fuchsia shirt and jeans. Later on when he got up to use the restroom I noticed that he was wearing a pair of black horsebit loafers that looked to be Gucci.

I liked that he specifically used my name in his greeting, so I reciprocated.

“Hi Zack,” I said, smiling.

“Have you been waiting long?” I added, knowing that I had arrived with a few minutes to spare but he had already been seated.

“No,” he shook his head. “About ten minutes maybe. I thought about waiting in the bar but it’s packed in there” – he nodded in the direction of the large opening separating the main bar area from this part of the dining room, and I could see that people were two- and three-deep in there waiting for drinks – “and I figured by the time I could actually get a drink it would be time to sit down, so I figured I would just grab our table early.”

I just smiled again, thinking of something to say – “okay” or “uh-huh” or “that’s good” – but each of those trite utterances seemed to be nothing more than space-fillers; you know, some sort of mandatory acknowledgment that you had heard something that another person had said – so instead I opted to stick with only the smile in response.

“How was your trip to Seattle?” I asked as soon as I sat down, figuring why not get the real conversation – the real date - underway.

“It was good,” he nodded. He gave me an abbreviated description of the reason for his trip. Since it had to do with MetroGen and I was consulting there as well, I think he was somewhat more forthcoming in the details than he might have been otherwise given that some of what he was telling me seemed rather proprietary. So as he was talking I was connecting the dots between what he was describing about his work and the project I was working on, and – I couldn’t help it – the professional side of my brain came to life in the back of my mind, thinking about what the details Zack was describing might mean to how I would approach a couple of meetings on Monday morning.