S.V. Redkin – The Great Conductor (страница 6)

She had agreed to receive Victor’s call, which she did later in the evening. A pleasant male voice assured her that he was also feeling a bit weird about the situation—it turned out that he, too, had agreed to go on a date with her for his parents’ sake, and he promised to end the date as soon as she felt uncomfortable.

One point goes to “Victor’s pro column,” she thought with a smile.

Victor had given her a few options for the place for their rendezvous and also had asked if she had any favorite spots.

Considerate—one more point.

She had let him choose the place, which he had done (a nice Italian place), and messaged the details a few minutes after they had finished their conversation.

Efficient—another point.

Christine had opted for a taxi to be able to have a drink—never drink and drive—in case the date went south. So now, she was in the cab wondering if the man she had seen only two times in her life—a son of her grandparents’ friends—could be someone she could actually date. She had checked his social media page and found some pictures of a quite handsome, healthy-looking man in his forties with a full blond mane of hair on his head.

His company’s website had revealed that Victor went to a good university to study business and had his master’s in real estate and property management. He liked rock music (thank God! she did not want to have any conversations about classical music) and traveling (could potentially be a deal-breaker because Christine didn’t have time for trips). He enjoyed a good novel and nonfiction in his free time, of which he “hardly had any.” One more point. Christine liked people who read, even though she, too, almost never had time to do it for pleasure.

She texted Victor to let him know that she would be a few minutes late. Although she was usually punctual during her non-romantic work hours, she decided to be fashionably late this time for their date. By making him wait, she hoped to reveal some of his personal traits that he might have tried to conceal on the first meeting. When she received his message saying, Don’t worry, I’m here, she gave him another point for being so understanding.

Four good points so far. Was he working too hard to impress her? There must be something wrong with this man. No one can be perfect.

Or was it that she was subconsciously eager to give him a chance? She fiddled with her beaded bracelet as she watched the streets of Baltimore rush past her.

***

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” said Christine as she walked into the restaurant and spotted Victor sitting at a table by the window. Another point for choosing a good spot—she liked to observe passersby when she ate. He looked stylish in his expensive grey pants and white dress shirt, which showed a hint of chest hair. Christine noticed that Victor was not wearing socks with his loafers. This was a man who was comfortable in his own skin.

“It’s all right,” Victor said, standing up and offering her a chair. “It gave me a chance to relax a bit.”

“You don’t look nervous,” Christine said, sitting down and catching a whiff of Victor’s clean and balmy aftershave.

“I guess it’s a professional habit—I need to project confidence in order to sell expensive lots,” he said, sitting down across from her.

Christine smiled. “Fair enough . . . For the record, though, I don’t quite know what we’re supposed to be doing. Never been on a blind date before.”

“That makes two of us. Why don’t I start by saying that you look beautiful. Will that be all right for an icebreaker?”

Christine laughed. She had spent the whole day deciding what to wear for this date and, giving up in the end, had chosen to wear light blue jeans and a white cotton blouse. “Now I know you’re just being polite.”

“Not at all. I appreciate the fact that you came as you are, not a formal version of you, if it makes any sense.”

“I’ll take it as compliment.” She noticed that the coasters on the table had the logo of the restaurant on them. She turned the one that was closer to her so that it would point at Victor. Will he notice it, for an extra bonus point?

“It is.” Victor smiled and gave the waiter a sign to approach. “Why don’t we order something delicious to eat and drink, and take this whole—” He whirled his index finger.

“Date situation?” Christine suggested.

“Right—the date situation slowly and enjoy this wonderful place.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Christine said, taking the menus from the waiter. “Let’s see what they have.”

***

Two and a half hours later, Christine was in the cab on the way home. She could still smell Victor’s aftershave after the goodbye peck on her cheek. She liked the smell and enjoyed the evening. They had agreed to meet again. This blind date business was not too bad, after all. She felt her phone vibrate in her jeans pocket. She took it out and saw a message from Victor. As she was about to read it, a call from her best friend, Laura McKenzie, came in.

Christine and Laura had been friends since their middle school days. Laura was the only person who could tolerate Christine’s never-ending practice sessions, rehearsals, and love for classical music. Christine, in turn, was the only friend who could put up with Laura’s obsession with healthy food, which at times bordered on unhealthy infatuation.

Laura was also the one who was there for Christine after her parents passed away, providing all the support she needed during that difficult time.

After high school, Laura decided to pursue a career in graphic design and became a highly sought-after designer. She met Charles Kirkwood, a quiet IT engineer, and they fell in love. Opposites do attract, after all. Despite her intense approach to life, Charles loved Laura for who she was. They had two pets, a dog and a cat, which were the only creatures on this planet that Laura did not try to change.

“Hey, Tina,” Laura said in her usual demanding tone.

“Hey, Lola,” Christine said.

“What you up to?”

Christine waited for a second, because she knew that was a rhetorical question.

“You wouldn’t believe what just happened,” Laura continued.

Christine was used to Laura’s weekly “breaking news” updates and shifted in her seat. The journey home would take another fifteen minutes, so she might as well make herself comfortable. “Charlie’s been cheating on me.”

Christine sat up straight “What?!”

“I found a Burger King’s wrapper in Charles’s bag!” She announced it as if it were a declaration of war. “Can you imagine? He’s been eating that crap behind my back.”

Christine exhaled loudly and relaxed. “So he’s been cheating on you with fast food?”

“That’s not funny.”

“It could be someone else’s.” Christine ventured a guess, without much enthusiasm. She knew that Charles could not take a step without consulting his wife. If he’d eaten at the place, he would’ve done a better job covering his tracks. “A colleague’s, perhaps?”

“So you’re saying someone else ate the damn thing and then put the wrapper in his bag?” And then, without giving Christine a chance to reply, “That’s the lamest explanation I’ve ever heard. And you’re supposed to be a detective.” Laura snorted. “By the way, Detective Heart, he admitted everything.”

“He did?”

“Yes. He’s been having sneaky lunches God knows where with his obese office buddies who eat lard for breakfast.”

Christine laughed. “It can’t be that bad. How long has he been doing it?”

“Since last week.”

“Since . . . Lola, come on. Tell me the truth, was it one lunch only?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Does it really matter?” Laura asked. “He cheated! He’s a cheater. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am, but he’s my friend as well.”

“I was your friend first and you should—hang on.” There was some metal sound on Laura’s end, which Christine knew very well.

“Are you cooking?” Christine asked.

Laura liked to experiment with different recipes in the evening to create another healthy answer to all the maladies of the world and post the results on social media.

“Sure. What else would I be doing at this hour . . . ? Speaking of which . . . what are you doing?”

“Well, if you must know, I went on a date. A blind date, for that matter.”

“What?! Are you kidding me?” It sounded like her cooking stopped. “It’s about time, if you ask me. Who’s the lucky man? And, for the love of God, do not tell me he’s one of your foul-mouthed colleagues. How’s that going, by the way—dealing with those misogynist pricks in your office? Have you told your supervisor that they are the ones who should be going to the therapy?”

“It turns out I need a bit of therapy myself,” Christine said with a smile.

“Believe me, apart from your obsessive shooting practices, endless beading and shocking lack of new clothes, you’re fine,” Laura said and made more cooking noises. “What did the therapist say, anyway? Maybe I could use some of it as well.”

“Well, I need to figure out what the real objective of my anger is. Without that, I will be ‘spilling my anger on everyone who happens to be around me.’ That was the gist of it.”

“Aren’t those fat bastards in your office it?”

“According to Dr. Korpacheff, it goes deeper than that and we’ll delve into it in our future sessions.”