“Hi!” I said, waving at her.
I stepped in the car and shut the door, which shut in the inevitable awkwardness with us.
I turned in my seat to look at her and was met with a giant puff of pot smoke.
I coughed, my lungs seizing from something they hadn’t been exposed to in a very long time.
“I’m sorry,” she said in her proper English accent and blew the rest of the smoke out to the left of her and out the window, which was open a crack, the rain coming inside and saturating the rim of the door.
“That’s OK,” I said, getting a hold of the spasms.
“Do you want any?” she asked, offering me the joint in her pale, delicate fingers.
I shook my head, not wanting to explain that I wasn’t eager to go down that path again. I didn’t have a problem with anyone smoking pot, it’s just that there was a reason they called it a gateway drug. And even though 90% of the population can smoke it and call it a day, it was just the starting point for me. It was better if I avoided it entirely. On that note, it was probably better that I never drank again, either, but we can’t do everything that’s right for us. I was allowed at least one vice.
“More for me then,” she said with a smile. I noticed how much softer her face looked when she smiled, almost girlish. She was dressed impeccably, wearing a modest grey linen shift dress that was structured and tailored to her body. The sleeves went out into little pointy corners that combined a 40s look and a futuristic style, like something out of Blade Runner. She had a thin black patent belt at her waist, her hair was perfectly in place and a maroon felt hat sat on her head at a nice angle and perfectly matched her lips and nails. Even though I put in the extra effort that morning, I felt like a giant slob next to her.
“So where do you want to eat?” she asked and brought the car out onto the street. It felt like the beginning of awkward small talk.
“Oh, I’m easy,” I said. “I don’t know Seattle that well so I couldn’t really suggest any place.”
We paused at the corner and she craned her head around, looking out at the street. “Which one’s your car?”
“They let me park in the apartment parkade. I have a motorbike so you can just rest it in the corner and no one says anything.”
Rebecca laughed, rich and amused. “A motorbike?”
She gave me a quick look before she brought the car onto the main road and roared along beneath the Monorail tracks, one hand on the shift, the other holding the joint and the wheel. “No offense Perry, but you do not look cool enough to ride a motorbike.”
I’d actually heard the opposite. That I looked cool enough, but didn’t act cool enough. Same difference, I guess.
“None taken,” I said as nonchalantly as possible and looked out the window. Dex had been right about Rebecca being rough around the edges. I wondered if agreeing to lunch was a mistake. If she was going to end up being someone just like Jenn, I was in for a hellish time.
“I know just the place, anyway, and it’s close by,” she said.
Whatever, I thought. Then I remembered Dex slipping me the fifty note.
“Oh,” I said and pulled it out of my pocket. I waved it in the air. “Dex said for me to give this to you; he said you’d know what it was for.”
She eyed it without turning her head. She had unnaturally thick and long lashes. She laughed. “Oh, he’s run out all ready? I suppose he’s not taking quitting too lightly.”
I squinted at her, not understanding.
“Just hold onto it for now,” she said and flipped on the radio with her hand. “Come Together” was on. I rolled my eyes. This album was freaking following me everywhere.
I stuck the bill back in my pocket and soon we were pulling up into a metered parking space in the middle of downtown.
“Look at this luck,” she said. When she had finished parking, she pulled out the ashtray and put the joint out in it. I was relieved we didn’t have to go far. It always made me nervous when people smoked pot and drove at the same time. Probably because when I was a teenager that’s why my parents took my old car away. Had a little mishap with the cherry tree in our front lawn.
We got out of the car and she pointed up at what looked like a downtown mall. We were on the corner of Pike and 5th, amongst office workers out on their lunch break, shielding themselves from the rain with a multitude of overused umbrellas. There were retail stores everywhere, from Anthropologie to All Saints. My sister would have gone nuts here.
“Hey,” I said to Rebecca as she locked the car and we quickly walked down to the lights to cross the street. “I’ve got a gift certificate for this Designer Shoe House or something, is there one around here?”
She nodded and pointed down the block. “Just down there. Want to do some shoe shopping after lunch?”
I nodded. “I don’t have any nice shoes for the Christmas party. I mean, I thought I did but my sister said they looked Amish.”
I looked down at Rebecca’s shoes as they stood poised in the falling rain. Of course they were as high as hell, as shiny as her belt and as maroon as her hat, lips and nails.
“Not a problem,” she smiled and she looked soft again. I could also see she was being sincere, which started to put me at ease. That was the one thing missing from all of Jenn’s perfect smiles: Sincerity.
We went up a few floors in an office building cum mall and ended up at a spread-out restaurant and bar that was named after me. Or my last name at least.
I chuckled as the perky waitress led us to our table. “Have you been here before?” I asked Rebecca, thinking it was just for me.
“Actually, yes,” she said as we took our seats and took the menus from the waitress. “Work isn’t too far from here so we sometimes come here after meetings. Best happy hours ever and we all need one or five after dealing with Jimmy.”
I leaned forward on my elbows and looked at her. I couldn’t help but smile like a goof. It finally occurred to me that I actually had a job with co-workers who were interesting and seemed somewhat interested in me. I didn’t know much about Shownet, obviously, due to geographic restrictions, but I couldn’t get over the fact how nice it was to be able to talk to someone about it, someone who wasn’t Dex. Sometimes I got the impression that Dex was trying to keep me separate from that world, even though it was the world that gave me a meager paycheck every two weeks and broadcasted my fat, scared face to the entire planet.